I Shall Return

My promises of “back with better stuff” are seldom fulfilled these days, and the fact that I can not get myself to write (or even if I do write, to complete my pieces) makes me feel more debilitated than misleading. I’d be lying if I said my trip wasn’t inspiring, because I spent a considerable amount of time writing, or thinking about what I’d write. When we were travelling especially, and we did a considerable amount of that (by road) Ktm to Itahari, Itahari to Birtamod, Birtamod to Ilam, village to village in Ilam, and back to Kathmandu. It probably consumed half the time of our whole trip. That was a lot of thinking then, no?

Then, as usually happens with me, something came up. It was not something that had a direct effect on me, but somehow it managed to mar me. And I ignored all inspiration around me, or I just stopped seeing things as inspiration, and took time off for myself. (I guess sometimes the most “normal” things bother you, and you wish you could change things that you actually know will take care of themselves, and you curse your helplessness.)

Just a random string of thoughts in my head these days… no I did not fall in love, and no, I am not heartbroken.

Somehow, I’m used to expressing my frame-of-mind in upto a sentence. “Maichyang is feeling lonely.”, “Maichyang senti khadai cha”- that is a phrase originally used by a friend’s boyfriend and something we also started using. ”Maichyang should stop expecting the phone to ring” types… For some reason, there seems like there is no reason to write, while a part of me also knows that there is. There are.